


Third Chance

by thrillingtremors



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Saw (Movies)
Genre: PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THOSE TOPICS, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Trigger Warning!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22592629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrillingtremors/pseuds/thrillingtremors
Summary: [ READ THE TAGS PLEASE! ]Amanda Young had a hard time adjusting to the Entity’s realm. Some survivors are more than willing to help her with that.
Relationships: Amanda Young and Claudette Morel, Amanda Young and Feng Min, Amanda Young and Herman Carter, Amanda Young and John Kramer, Amanda Young and Kate Denson, Amanda Young and Nancy Wheeler
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	Third Chance

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn’t see the trigger warning: this contains self harm and suicidal thoughts. Please don’t continue if that bothers you! This one shot is just Amanda centered, hope you enjoy it even if there’s no ships.

Amanda stood in the middle of the hospital, her forlorn gaze rested on the various medical tables and equipment around her. She wasn't in a trial. No, crazy as it may seem, she went here on her own free will. It was simply because she had nothing else to lose, and needed this — badly. 

What did she need? 

Help. She needed . . . help. 

["Amanda Young."] Amanda turned her head upon hearing the familiar voice. Herman Carter stood in front of her. The clamps and fastens keeping his eyes and mouth forever forced open prohibited him from actually speaking. So, he took to invading people's thoughts with his voice instead, like an inner devil. She was used to it. 

["Why are you here?"] He seemed intrigued, and she flexed her hands in-and-out of fists. Honestly, Herman was the last person she should have gone to. He was cold, cruel, malicious, he was a bastard. And yet, here she was. She was definitely desperate, that much was for sure. 

"You know I wouldn't come here of my own free will if it wasn't important, Herman." Amanda's voice was icy as she rose her gaze, angling her head upwards to properly address Herman. She was adjusted now to all the killers being literal giants in this place, and her so much significantly shorter than most of them. 

["Indeed. You hate me."] Herman's wild laughter echoed through her ears, but she wasn't phased. Let him laugh, let him cackle — she didn't care. 

"Stop saying shit we both already know," Amanda snapped. She always had a very, very small temper. Anything and anyone could set it off and make her explode. She didn't know how to properly deal with emotions or feelings. Especially stress and . . . Grief. She swallowed. 

["Fine, then. What do you want?"] Herman suddenly stepped closer to her, looming above her menacingly. If it was meant to instill fear within her, the gesture failed. Instead, she just wrung her hands together. This was it; 'just say it,' she thought to herself. 'Get it out already!' 

"I need — I need razors." Her voice was strained, and her reluctance in speaking only seemed to catch Herman's twisted interest. ["Is that so? What for? You don't need to shave in this realm. Perhaps you're using them to torture the survivors? But you would know the Entity doesn't allow that."] Herman tilted his head tauntingly. 

["Why would you possibly need such a thing? And why would you think I would have them?"] 

Herman's hysteric giggles suddenly echoed through her ears, and Amanda covered them instinctively. "STOP LAUGHING!" She shouted in a burst of anger, her chest rising and falling rapidly. This was a stupid idea. She was so stupid, stupid— she hung her head, gritting her teeth. 

["Did I upset Miss Piggy?"] Herman extended a mangled hand to mess with her mask, and Amanda's eye twitched. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, nails digging into his fried skin. Her blade unsheathed, and she lifted her other hand to press it against his throat. "Unless you have a death wish," she whispered, "you won't try to fucking touch me ever again. You understand?" 

["You don't make the rules here, Amanda."] 

Amanda faltered, her brow furrowing. "Shut the fuck up!" She spat, but Herman just chuckled. He suddenly shoved her down, and she fell onto the floor: hard. Her back connected onto the ground with a thud, and she grimaced, face contorted into a wince. She'd definitely have bruises later. 

["You have quite the audacity to enter MY realm, and start bossing ME around. Do you think you are that strong? Do you think in any way you are more powerful than me? Especially when you come here asking me for razors. Blasphemy."] 

He knew. He knew. Amanda's breath hitched. She'd been hoping, praying, he didn't make the connections, didn't piece two-and-two together. But Herman Carter was a doctor, a people-reader, amazing at assessing emotions and complications in the human psyche. Why wouldn't he be able to pick apart Amanda emotionally? She was a fool. 

["You came looking in the wrong place, Pig. I don't have any razors. But would scalpels be enough for you? Perhaps you'd like to sit down on a treatment table for me, and I can peel apart your head to take a closer look at your brain, see what's wrong with you, what's making you so—"] 

"NO!" Amanda shouted. "Fuck off! Forget about this! Fuck you!" Amanda turned on her heel and started running towards the exit. Herman just watched; he knew better than to pursue her. 

Amanda's boots crunched against the snow as she darted through the exit gate, feeling just like those survivors she'd sworn to kill and sacrifice. 

She staggered and stumbled all the way back home. 'Little Miss Piggy,' her thoughts mocked her. Tears rose up into her eyes, but she blinked them away firmly. No more crying. No more feeling bad for herself. She was an idiot for thinking Herman could have helped her, could have just NOT been a douche, could've given her what she wanted. She was naïve for assuming. 

When she arrived back at her meat plant, she took off her mask with trembling hands. She tossed it roughly onto the floor, lifting up her foot to step angrily on it — but she paused. She was acting impulsively. She just needed to calm. 

She spun away, tangling her fingers through her hair. The cold chill of Herman's realm still seeped through her, that frigid winter air and snow making her shiver. She wanted to go home — but wasn't she already home? No, this wasn't the same. The Gideon Meat Plant the Entity had constructed for her was nothing like the real one. 

She noticed the differences. They were small, but they mattered. Blood splatters in different places than they usually were, mismatched tiles in the floor, a few minor things misplaced from their original spots — minuscule details, but Amanda didn't care. She noticed them. And she hated them. She just wanted things back to normal. 

In the beginning, she'd tried swearing to herself that this was her second chance. Another shot at redemption. A powerful being had gazed upon her work under John Kramer, had APPROVED of it. Had witnessed her dying, and had saved her soul — brought her here; to try again! The Entity had given her no repercussions to her actions. The Entity didn't put her through tests. And yet; 

She wasn't satisfied. How could she be? She missed constructing traps. Instead, she was forced to live with only a few scraps of materials, scrounging up whatever she could. And in the end, they were only the parts to build reverse bear traps. Those were also the only traps she could use during trials. All the potential within her that John had seen was wasted here, on the same repetitive shit. Eventually, Amanda got bored. She was always the best at building traps. But the Entity prevented her from her passion. 

All of the thrill and excitement of first coming here was gone. The joy of being able to do her work without being labeled a monster had faded. Yeah, she was a murderer. But so was everyone else here. Her work didn't stand out against anyone else's. Her passion and drive didn't match her peers' whatsoever. None of them killed for justice — they only did it to please the Entity. She felt so different compared to them, so alone.

So helpless, and alone. Was karma coming back for her? Was this hell? Was this her victims' doing? Was she stuck in an endless loop of suffering, to amend for the suffering she'd brought upon others? She was — she was sorry. 

She could remember some trials that hurt more than others. Some victims she did not WANT to kill. Amanda hurt and slaughtered those who she felt NEEDED it; DESERVED it. Not innocents. She was a killer, but not a brutal, mindless one. She wasn't the killer the Entity wanted her to be. 

When she'd first seen Detective Tapp in this realm, she'd been confused. All the other faces were unfamiliar, except his. He looked at her, his eyes wide and — haunted. He'd changed from before. Once a man determined to hunt down Jigsaw, now a man being hunted down himself. He had seen her as she'd seen him; her crouched, soundlessly staring, and him ducked behind a whirring generator. Neither one of them moved. 

"You can still be saved, Amanda. Let me help you." She remembered, so vividly, how hard Tapp had tried to save her. He'd wanted to change her fate, he'd wanted to steer her onto a clearer and more stable path. She hadn't listened. And now they were both here. Was it her fault? 

And then, with a saddened expression, Tapp had smiled at her. He'd closed his eyes, as if accepting whatever she was going to do to him. But she couldn't. The same viciousness and brutality she gave others — she couldn't give it to Tapp, someone who had also sought justice just like her. He thought what Jigsaw did was wrong; who was she to sway his beliefs? She could admire someone also battling for justice in the world. But he hadn't been able to defeat Jigsaw, and she hadn't been able to continue John's work. No—

Because they both were here. 

Amanda had risen swiftly to her feet, and walked away. It was absurd, giving people second chances. People did not change! None of them. No one learned. No one shaped themselves from their past mistakes, no one was grateful to be alive! Especially not here! It was all pointless— but still, she showed mercy. Still, she backed off. 

Why? 

She didn't know. Was she finally coming to terms with the fact that . . . Deep within her, she felt guilty? She felt regret? She felt . . . Some pity for her victims? She could recall nights, back in her real world, where she'd wake up screaming and crying from nightmares of those she'd hurt. She didn't want to show weakness, or feel weakness, but she couldn't hinder the internal turmoil she faced. She was powerless to stop her own mind.

So maybe the only way to lighten the burden of what she did, and was doing, was to show mercy. To grant those she deemed worthy enough of living — an actual second chance. It wasn't like her. Killing was usually her form of mercy; death was the greatest second chance of all, the ability to be free from life's burdens and to be at peace. 

But SHE was dead, and this wasn't peace at all.

This was purgatory. 

At the end of that trial, Amanda had given Tapp the hatch. She tossed him into the depths, remembered the look of shock on his face so clearly. Afterwards, the Entity had brutalized her. 

She could still feel those clawed tendrils impaling her body, could feel herself screaming and shouting for it all to stop. Even though she'd killed everyone besides Tapp, that didn't matter. She'd still let one get away, at her own free will. Killers couldn't show compassion or emotion. 

The Entity had been determined to instill that motto within her. But the Entity wasn't any being close to Amanda Young. It was otherworldly, all powerful, they had nothing in common — and she mattered not one BIT to it. She'd MATTERED to John Kramer. He had offered her his views and ideals, offered her redemption, offered her a part in his games! Instead, here, she was just a pawn in the Entity's game. Just a puppet, just like Billy, to be used and manipulated. How the tables had fucking turned. 

Her teeth bit harshly into her lip, drawing blood. She hated this place. Hated the killers. Half of them were either mindless victims who'd been chosen by the Entity due to tragedies they'd faced, or the other half were complete psychopaths who killed without a single ounce of reason besides the fact that they just enjoyed it. 

"Bullshit!" She yelled to herself, kicking a nearby bench in a fit of rage. She couldn't find one single PERSON who she could relate to, who she could look up to and strive to please and make happy. In simpler terms — she couldn't find a replacement for John Kramer, and she hated it.

She tried telling herself she didn't need John. He'd been hindering her, slowing her down, stopping her from her FULL potential. But in reality, everything had been her own fault. She'd failed her game, she'd disappointed him and let him down. After reading that letter, she'd broke, she couldn't take it anymore. She had killed Lynn, but she shouldn't have. She should've had more control. Instead she'd just lost it. Her emotions had gotten the best of her, yet again. And now—

But her regrets and inner hate with herself didn't matter. What mattered was almost nothing, anymore. What did she have here? Her main purpose was to punish people who deserved it, and show her work to all the world! Where was that here? Nowhere. Only the Entity watched her. The Entity could care less how she killed, why she killed, it didn't give a damn. All that mattered to it was energy: and it got that from the killers and survivors, it used them endlessly. 

The killers, like the faithful little minions they were, would down the survivors like flies and fling them up on meat hooks. And the survivors, like the faithful little meat bags they were, would die and be sacrificed to the Entity, for it to consume them and feed off of their soul. Amanda hated it. That wasn't justice. That wasn't ANYTHING but a fucking feast! Her work went down the drain, all so this thing could EAT! 

She wanted out. She wanted out. But there was no way out. She was dead. Where else could she possibly go? Even if there was a way out to begin with. She was trapped here, shit, everyone was! 

The stress, the turmoil, the anger — it all ate away at her. She craved drugs again. Without John to help her, to make her better, she was a mess. She wanted her old habits back, sickeningly enough. She wanted to feel a brief sense of high, a brief sense of pure unmatched euphoria — even if she knew and understood the high would quickly fade, and the lows would come crashing back down onto her harder than ever. She didn't care, she just wanted to keep chasing the high. 

But, a part of her fought against it. John had given her everything to get better, to steer away from heroine. He'd helped her mature, he'd helped her . . . Be GRATEFUL for her life. He'd shown her how beautiful and important it was to be alive. But now she was dead. Now she was dead. And it was all her own fault, all of it. 

She wanted to turn to self-harm again. She wanted to feel a cigarette burning against her skin, she wanted to feel the cold brush of a razor slicing open her flesh. It was morbid, it was WRONG — but she'd always done it, ever since she was a little girl. It was a dark outlet for her. 

She'd gone to the only person she figured would have what she needed — the Doctor. She assumed he had all kinds of devices. She was wrong, apparently. She only ended up revealing information about herself she should've kept secret. Would he use it against her? Then again, who cared? She sure didn't. Nothing mattered. 

But she had to keep trying. She couldn't give up. Someone had to have a damn razor in this place. She could use her dagger, but she didn't want to. Her dagger was something special to her, something she used to harm others; not herself. 

She leaned against her work table, her palms pressed over blueprints and plannings of reverse bear traps. Now that Amanda was alone, she felt like it was okay to break down. She only ever really fell apart around John. John understood her. John made it better. But John wasn't here. 

Amanda lifted her hands up, pressing her fingers against her cheeks as she began to cry. Brutal sobs racked through her body as she slouched over. She missed John. She missed him more than anything. He was the most important figure in her life, and even in her death. She had failed him and she would do anything to go back and fix her mistakes, to hold him one last time and PROMISE him she'd do better — try harder.

But she didn't deserve a third chance. 

It didn't work that way. 

She sniffled, her bloodshot eyes darting up to the arrangement of pig heads in front of her, hanging on a rack. She regarded them all bitterly. Her lip curled up and she turned away from them. Damn it all. Damn it all . . . She shook her head slowly. 

She just wanted this to be over with. She wanted to be dead for real. She didn't deserve to continue working, she didn't deserve to continue enacting justice, because she'd FAILED. She was supposed to be gone, just a wistful memory lost in an old man's dying mind. But no; she was here. 

"Just end it all!" Amanda shouted in the empty room. She was talking to the Entity, of course. "Please." Her voice cracked, and she sunk down onto her knees. "Just — let me be gone," she begged. "Let me be at PEACE," she pleaded.

No response. She didn't expect one. The Entity couldn't speak, anyway. Not properly. She could hear it whispering to her sometimes, in some old ancient language, and occasionally the whispers would grow louder and angrier when she failed. She could always feel and sense its displeasure. 

She wiped tears from her face, staring angrily into the distance. Fuck everything. Fuck everyone. Fuck this. Fuck fuck fuck FUCK— 

Fuck. Why did it matter anymore? Nothing did, nothing did. She unsheathed her blade, looking down at it with a bitter grin. Who would be there to care if she used this on herself, and not others? 

John would be upset with her. John would be disappointed. But shit, he was already disappointed in her! Why not push it a bit further, right? Besides, John wasn't even here. They weren't together anymore. He couldn't stop her, help her, control her. She was all alone, now.

What big difference would this be? Her using her own precious weapon against herself? Sure, it'd dampen her pride. And every time she swung at a survivor, she'd be reminded of how she'd used that same dagger for something else. Something deeper, more personal. But . . . In the end, she just had to ignore it. Just had to keep going. Doing this would help her keep going. She had to, she had to do this. She needed this release. 

She needed to release the stress, the guilt, the anger, the frustration, she needed to vent herself. She didn't know any other way but this one, and drugs. Yet she had left heroine behind; however, self-harm had always stayed with her. The urge to hurt herself whenever anything upset her remained, whispering tauntingly inside her head.

Why not just let it all go? 

With shaking hands, she unsheathed her blade. She pulled up the sleeve of her opposite arm, revealing faded scars. Past memories of her doing this before drifted into her mind, but she pushed them away. Those weren't important right now. 

A few stray tears slid sluggishly down her cheeks. She let them, and didn't bother wiping them away. Taking a deep breath, she drew the first line against her paled skin. She saw the crimson springing up, felt the familiar tingles of pain. 

The pain helped her feel real. The pain helped her feel alive again, when she knew she was dead. The tears fell more rapidly now; no use trying to stop them. No use trying to stop the urges, either. Just let it happen — just let it all unfold. 

"Ugh—" Amanda stifled a whimper as she slashed the dagger more harshly across her flesh. Deeper and deeper she went. If she did that, maybe she'd die for real. If she did that, maybe she'd have an escape. If she just faded into darkness for good, she could finally have rest. Finally be at ease. 

Blood, hot and sticky, fell onto the ground underneath her. It trailed down her arm and dripped onto the floor. Amanda didn't stop. She knew where important arteries were, she dug harshly through her skin and cut right through them. The pain hurt like no other, but pain was familiar. Pain was a common occurrence, pain was always with her, pain was — comforting. 

Her knees buckled, and she felt her eyes rolling back into her head. She swayed on her feet, beginning to teeter in and out of reality. Was the room spinning, or was she? She felt herself collapse with a dull thud onto the reddened floor.

She pressed her back against her work table, her hands now limp at either side of herself. The edges of her vision had began to blur, stars dancing in front of her eyes. The room suddenly flashed bright white, then dimmed again. She was hallucinating, huh? She felt herself grow nauseous. If she could, she would be throwing up.

Amanda's head tilted to the side when she saw a familiar dark fog billowing towards her. Her glazed-over eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat. She shook her head as frantically as she could. "No!" She snapped desperately. "No, not now!" Frustration consumed her. Why now?! 

She knew what that fog meant. It meant the Entity was trying to pull her into a trial. But why? Why now? Why not let her have this moment? 

She closed her eyes, and for a moment, was met with complete darkness. For a little while, she hoped oblivion had finally settled upon her. But then she opened her eyes again, and knew she wasn't that lucky. She was never that lucky, ever.

Something was off, though. Unusual. Amanda looked down, and realized her wounds were still there. The Entity had not healed them. That was strange. Usually the Entity wanted its killers to be in perfect health, so they could perform at their highest levels and sacrifice all the survivors. 

Couldn't have damaged toys, right? 

That's when Amanda felt something cold brush against her face, and she stiffened. She raised her uninjured hand up to her face, and felt herself go rigid. Her mask! It wasn't on! How could that be possible?! No, no, no! NO! This couldn't be happening. She'd never shown her face to anyone before, not here. Now it'd be ruined— 

The frigid air of Ormond whipped against her face as Amanda began limping as fast as she could towards cover. Blood splatters trailed behind her, stark against the snow. It would reveal her position to anyone hunting her, but SHE was the hunter here. Not anyone else. When Amanda spotted a small cabin in the distance, she ran.

As soon as she staggered up the stairs into the small building, she fell. She sunk down onto the floor, her energy now drained. Running had taken every ounce of strength out of her. If the Entity expected her to kill, she wouldn't. She refused.

Even if she tried, she wouldn't get too far. 

Amanda remained frozen on the ground. The walls of the little cabin were blown away and exposed, so snow regularly filtered inside and made her shiver. She was probably going to faint from blood loss, but hell, that didn't concern her. 

She was only worried about people seeing her face, making the connections, realizing it's her: the Pig. She didn't want them to have any form of information about her; it'd make her vulnerable. She couldn't allow herself to be vulnerable to them — the survivors. Or anyone. 

Her eyes slipped shut, and she felt herself drifting away. She only spiraled back into consciousness, still somehow alive, when she heard frenzied footsteps and voices. She cringed. 

'Could they shut up?' She thought irritably. She shifted uncomfortably, wincing. That was when her face went white — wait. People were here, she was vulnerable, exposed — fuck! She stiffened, hearing a familiar voice calling out. 

"Kate, hey! The blood trail ends here." 

"I still don't know why you're going on this wild goose chase, Claudette." 

"Feng, enough. You know this person's in trouble." 

"And YOU know it's the killer. We're all here. Me, you, Kate, and Nancy. The only other person left? The thing that murders us. This is a trap!" 

"Feng, I know ya ain't comfortable with this. Ya can leave, Claudette and I ain't forcing y'all to help. Ya and Nancy can go finish the generators and scram, but Claude and I — we can't just do that. Claude cares for everyone, and shit, so do I. No one deserves to suffer. We gotta make a difference in this place, show we ain't as bad as them or the Entity. We gotta give 'em a hand." 

"No. I'm going with you two. If you go, I go. We're a team. I made the mistake of splitting up from people before, and it got my best friend killed. We're in this together, okay? Right, Feng?" 

"Shut up. I'm only here to make sure you all don't die instantly. You're all just a bunch of idiots." 

Amanda should speak. She should move. She should get up, and she should flee. But she didn't. She just sat there, like a deer in headlights, as she heard Claudette shushing them all. The steps drew closer, and then Amanda saw her. Claudette peeked her head into the cabin, their eyes locking. Claudette looked surprised, while Amanda was uneasy, her stomach churning. 

'Get up,' Amanda thought. 'Get up and kill them all. Slaughter them, and make them pay for ever seeing your face. Kill them!' 

But she didn't stir. She remained tense, as Claudette gasped. "Oh my god! Are you okay?!" She was staring at Amanda's sliced-apart arm. 

"Move! Let me see!" Feng shoved Claudette gently aside, and Amanda began panicking. Why wasn't she speaking up? Yelling for them to fuck off, threatening them with her dagger? Maybe it was because she was too weak. Yeah, that was it. 

Why . . . Why wasn't she doing anything? Instead she just remained blissfully silent, still as a statue. Should she play dead? Like a possum? She doubted that would work. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, starting to shake from nerves.

"Don't worry! I've got you." Claudette stepped inside, and Amanda finally moved. She flinched. How pitiful. Acting like a frightened rabbit. What was she, a survivor now? She felt disgusted with herself. She should instill fear into these girls and send them all away crying. But she didn't. She just stared at them as they all entered. 

"What happened to you?" Claudette whispered sorrowfully, dropping down beside Amanda. She was so close. Too close. Amanda didn't answer. 

"I won't hurt you. Please, just let me help." Claudette gently took Amanda's arm in her hand, and for some reason, Amanda didn't slit her throat and watch her blood spray. For some reason, she didn't slam a reverse bear trap onto her head. Why? What was WRONG with her? 

Was she going soft? 

"We shouldn't trust her." Feng was the voice of reason in the room. "That's the fucking PIG! The one whose killed us countless times! Did you forget?" Feng was eyeing Amanda with distrust. Of course she'd be recognized, she was wearing her red cloak. She just stared evenly at Feng, when inside, she was beginning to freak out. 

"Does it look like she could kill us right now, Feng? Poor thing couldn't even hurt a fly," Kate responded in that damn southern accent. Amanda wanted to wring her neck, but she was only pointing out the obvious. Amanda gulped. 

"Nancy, can you use your flashlight and point it above the wounds?" Claudette asked. Nancy moved closer, sending Amanda a nervous glance, but Amanda didn't shift. Nancy then clicked on her flashlight, angling it above Amanda's mangled arm. The room had now gone completely quiet. 

Then, Feng whistled. "Sending Spirit a run for her money, huh?" She muttered, and Kate smacked the Asian girl in her shoulder. "Shush!" 

"Okay. I know what to do. But — will you let me?" Claudette had turned her focus to Amanda, who was looking at her already. Amanda tried hiding her true emotions, tried molding her expression into a mask. But she was scared. She didn't like being this close to other people who seemed so real and human, so kind and genuine. 

Did she want to let them closer? Did she want to strip herself of all her defenses, all her boundaries and walls she'd kept up? Did she want to sacrifice her isolation for . . . Some stupid survivors? She was used to being alone. Used to being by herself. She didn't expect it to change — until now . . . 

She didn't deserve company. She didn't deserve their help. She didn't WANT their help. She just wanted to be left by herself to bleed out in this dumb cabin. Her lower lip quivered, and she looked away. But she couldn't get what she wanted, could she? The world didn't work like that. The Entity's realm didn't work like that.

She nodded. Once, briefly. 

That was all Claudette needed. 

Claudette managed a small smile. She got to work, bringing out her med-kit. "Unfortunately, I didn't bring an insta-heal this trial," she murmured. "But don't worry, I'll do my best to heal you up." Claudette smiled more at Amanda. 

Nancy kept her flashlight pointed towards Amanda's arm while Claudette began pouring disinfectant onto the cuts. Amanda twitched, gritting her teeth to contain her cries of pain. "I'm sorry!" Claudette exclaimed, and Amanda felt Kate place a comforting hand on her back.

She wanted to lash out, tell Kate to get the fuck off of her, tell Claudette to back off before she got stabbed, but she didn't. Instead she kept silent, perfectly still, and Claudette kept going. 

"Some of these are deep, so I need to stitch them up," Claudette murmured. She held a wheel of thread and a needle in her hand. "Can I?" Amanda just stared at her. She wasn't dead yet, so that was approval enough. Claudette continued. 

When Claudette started stitching up Amanda's cuts, her face contorted with pain. Kate suddenly grabbed her hand, holding it, while Nancy looked at her sympathetically. "It'll be okay," Kate cooed. Amanda felt like a child. She wanted to snap at them, tell them to go fuck themselves. She didn't. 

Could she just not find her voice today? 

Amanda kept her eyes closed, not wanting them to see that it hurt. However her nails did dig into Kate's palm, but Kate never once pulled away. 

After a few more agonizing minutes, Claudette pulled away. "Finished!" She said. She pulled out some gauze and bandages, wrapping up the rest of Amanda's injuries. "There! All better now!" 

Amanda opened her eyes, and when she did, there were tears in them. Maybe third chances did exist, and these idiot survivors just didn't know it. Maybe they were giving Amanda her third chance, and they just didn't have a clue. 

"Why?" She finally choked out. 

"Because you matter. Everyone in this realm matters. We're all just useless puppets to the Entity. It could discard us at any time. We're all victims, some of us just in different ways." Claudette stood up as Nancy turned off her flashlight. "And besides. No one deserves to suffer, especially on their own." Claudette beamed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Even if you're a complete bitch." Feng rose to her feet as well. "I agree with Claudette. Maybe you aren't that bad." Feng squinted, and Amanda looked away. She was that bad, she was — she wanted to push them away, but she was selfish.

She needed the companionship. Needed them. 

"You also wouldn't be the first killer we made friends with," Nancy added. "The Wraith and Hillbilly are nice, too! Even the Huntress, but only to us girls." Nancy smiled at Amanda. 

Amanda just looked away. Kate got up, offering a hand. Amanda took it, and Kate lifted her to her feet. What did Amanda even do to deserve this? 

"Just go," Amanda muttered, still not looking at any of them. Silence stretched out, before Feng turned and left. Soon after, Nancy followed her.

"We finished all the generators," Kate murmured. "You musta been knocked out, huh?" Amanda didn't answer. Kate sighed softly, and gently patted her back. "Thanks, uh . . . Pig. For not attacking us." Kate then walked off cheerfully, joining her friends to go open an exit. They probably had both at 99 in case Amanda reacted aggressively and attacked them. She swallowed. 

"Well?" Once it was just her and Claudette, Amanda spoke again. "Leave." Claudette hesitated. "Look, I . . . I know it's stupid, but I— I made flower crowns for all the killers." Amanda's eyebrow raised. "J-just in case they changed their minds, saw through the Entity's spell, you know, s-stuff like that! Anna, Philip, Max, Susie, and Bubba all have one. W-would you—"

"Shut up and give it to me already, alright?" 

Claudette smiled shakily, and reached into the satchel around her waist. She pulled out a flower crown, which had red, black, and white flowers woven together. She passed the crown to Amanda, who accepted it. She stared at the crown as the ground suddenly shook, signaling that the Endgame Collapse had now started. 

"I'll get going now." Claudette turned and went to leave. Amanda kept her head down, staring at the flower crown, and suddenly grabbed Claudette's arm. "Wait." Her voice was quiet.

Claudette looked back at her curiously. 

"Thanks," Amanda muttered, releasing her.

Claudette grinned, laughing softly. "No problem! See you soon — hey, what's your name? If you mind me asking. J-just so we don't keep calling you Pig, you know?" Amanda glanced up at her. 

"Amanda," she said stiffly. "But don't tell all our little friends about this. Don't have them expect me showing them mercy. Only you, Kate, Feng, and Nancy. Got that?" Amanda scowled at her.

"Loud and clear. See you later, Amanda." Claudette waved, and disappeared from the cabin. Once Amanda was alone again, she sighed. 

The Entity would punish her for all four survivors escaping. But, for now, she was fine. 

She looked down at the flower crown in her hands, and managed a small smile. 

Maybe people could change.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!~ :)


End file.
